The Walking Highwayman
by Jrajo
Summary: With the recent inclusion of zombies in Pride and Prejudice, I decided to mashup The Walking Dead with another famous 18-19th century literary piece. I did my best to create a circumstance that could actually happen in the universe of The Walking Dead while incorporating the poetic elements in Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman. You may want to read the original first, thank you!


The Walking Highwayman

PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old fort-door.

He'd a bear trap slung on his shoulder, a bunch of chain at his hip

A coat of ballistic Kevlar, and a torrent of extra clips

They stuck out of every pocket, Desert Eagle a-hand

And oh how he loved to cock it,

Empty, reload, and cock it.

Right in the eyeball socket, of zombies on his land.

Through the pickets he pushed-on and yelled to the dark fort door,

His ammo disturbed with a jingle, but all was locked and secure,

He looked to the old fort window, and who should be waiting there

But the colonel's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the colonel's daughter,

Gripping a box of claymores, beneath her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old guard booth, a security camera blinked

Where Tony the guardman listened, his breath from hooch a-stink

His eyes were hollows of madness, throat thick with jealousy

All over the Colonel's daughter,

The Colonel's black-eyed daughter,

Drunk as a dog he listened, and he heard the young man say—

"One kiss, my fearless sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,

But I shall bring back provisions, before the morning light;

Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

Then look for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups, he scarce could reach her hand,

But her tactical belt she loosened, and his face burnt like a brand

She bent and lowered it to him, black hair a-falling as well;

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped off into hell.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;

And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,

When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,

A hoard of them came slogging—

Slogging—slogging—

The undead ever slogging, to'ward the old fort door.

And as for a strange ol' rarity, the front gate stood ajar

The guard booth's Tony now absent, wandering off afar

The hoard now entered the compound, stinking of rotting flesh

And the Colonel's daughter, she ran down,

Shotgun a-hand she ran down,

The first zombie she saw she ran down, and shot him square in the chest.

Three more had fallen the same way, her eyes were now aglow

black eyes like flares in the darkness, from the blaze of guns a-blow

But the hoard was a sea of endless, a concourse now numberless

And Bess the Colonel's daughter—

The Colonel's black-eyed daughter—

Amid the zombie slaughter, felt upon her arm a press.

She whirled amid the chaos, and looked upon the harm

Now dark with blood a-dripping, teeth printed on her arm.

Frantic she turned and fled up, the old fort's wooden rise,

There was death at every window;

And hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that _he_ would ride.

She bolted the door and knelt down, arm cradled in her breast

How long it would take to change her, now only time could test.

She let out a sob in the darkness, as she heard the doomed man say—

Look for me by moonlight;

Watch for me by moonlight;

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

The bite continued its throbbing, her veins beginning to swell,

Blood gathering in her forehead, nails dug in the floor of her cell.

She crawled to base of her casement, and searched out once again

But the road lay bare in the moonlight;

Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse hoofs ringing clear;

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The undead looked to the clacking! She stared out, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her shotgun shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him— with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who lay

By casement, with barrel beside her, in moonlight's hoary grey

Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew pale to hear

How Bess, the Colonel's daughter,

The Colonel's black-eyed daughter,

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky.

With the white road smoking behind him, his Desert Eagle held high.

Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his Kevlar coat;

When the dead ones smothered the highway,

Down he went on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with zombies at his throat.

. . .

 _And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,_

 _When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,_

 _When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,_

 _A highwayman comes slogging—_

 _Slogging—slogging—_

 _A highwayman comes slogging, up to the old fort door._

 _With a bear trap stuck on his shoulder, and a leg wrapped up in chain_

 _He teeters a-front the doorway, and with a grunt so plain,_

 _He looks to the old fort window, and who should be waiting there_

 _But the Colonel's black-eyed daughter,_

 _Bess the Colonel's daughter_

 _No more than a zombie rotter, with her brain speckled long black hair._


End file.
